Intervention
By FenrisWolf
~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Part One: Woo Hoo! I can't believe I've received over six hundred reviews on this story so far. I don't know what it is, but I must be doing something right! Thanks to everyone who have taken the time to review, and especially to those who gave me the in-depth critiques that help me improve my work. I love all reviews, but the ones where my work has moved a reader to say more than just 'Update Soon!' really mean a lot to me. Thank you, all of you.
~~~~~~
~~~~~~
Chapter Ten - Proposals and Propositions
~~~~~~
The hijinks of the slumber party led to a late start Thursday morning, but by lunchtime Lavender and Parvati had been chivvied out of the Burrow, Tonks headed off to Grimmauld Place to see how Remus had weathered his monthly transformation, and Mrs. Weasley had the remaining teenagers hard at work getting ready for their departure in four days' time.
By mid-afternoon lists of required school supplies had been re-checked, owl orders had been sent for a few missed things ("Ron! How could you forget to buy more quills? Honestly!"), and clothing had been sorted into piles to be packed immediately, piles to be packed last, and piles to be relegated to the rag bin. To no one's surprise, least of all Harry's, his contribution to the last pile was three times the size of anyone else's, not because he was so hard on his clothing, but because so much of his wardrobe had been Dudley's worn-out, oversized castoffs.
Harry watched as the rag bin munched happily on his last pair of Dudley's old jeans, spitting out the occasional rivet like watermelon seeds. Apparently with most of the children now living on their own and the two remaining Weasley siblings spending most of the year at Hogwarts, the poor thing had fallen on rather lean times, and was enjoying its first decent meal in ages. "Thanks again, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he fed a tattered flannel shirt with worn-thru elbows into the trap, jerking his fingers back rapidly as the lid snapped shut.
"Whatever for, dear?" Molly asked as she bustled past with a load of damp wash fresh from the enchanted tubs on the back porch. The Burrow might not have modern Muggle appliances, but if there was a household charm Molly Weasley didn't know, Harry had yet to discover it.
"For lots of things, I guess," he replied, turning away as the bin uttered a satisfied belch. "For making me feel so welcome in the Burrow, for fussing over me like I was one of your own…for making me get new clothes," he grinned as he picked up a stray discarded sock and tossed it at the bin, which snapped it out of the air. His expression became more serious. "And I know I said it before, but most of all, for accepting how things worked out between Hermione and me, in spite of how it started."
Molly smiled, her eyes stinging a bit, and pulled Harry into a hug. After a moment she stepped back and said with a sniffle, "All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy, dear. Your parents were very special; I don't think I've ever seen two people so in love with each other. We grieved so much when we lost them, and seeing you and Hermione together is like seeing Lily and James alive again. She's a very remarkable girl, isn't she?"
"Yeah, she is," Harry murmured. "Sometimes I can't help wondering just what she sees in me; I worry that she'll wake up and realize what a mistake it was to get involved with Harry Potter…"
"You mustn't think that way, Harry!" Molly scolded. "Hermione is a very lucky girl to have you, and she's quite smart enough to know it. I don't think you have to worry about her changing her mind, now or at any time in the future." She turned to go, and then paused. "That reminds me…" Glancing around quickly to make sure they were alone, she asked, "Were you able to find what you were looking for on your 'errand'?"
Harry grinned. "Yes, I did; you were right, the store was absolutely amazing."
"Good, good," Molly beamed. "Have you decided when you're going to give it to her?"
He hesitated for a few seconds before answering. "I did have an idea, but I needed to talk to you and Mr. Weasley about it first. Do you know when he's supposed to be getting home?"
Mrs. Weasley thought for a moment. "Unless something unusual happens, he's usually through at the Ministry by late afternoon, and I don't believe he has anything involving the Order that will keep him away tonight. Would you like me to Floo him to make certain?"
"That'd be great, Mrs. Weasley. Once I know for sure, I can set it up with Ginny and Luna to keep Hermione busy while we talk. I want it to be a surprise, and if she gets wind that something's up, she'll wheedle it out of me." Harry shook his head. "And I thought keeping secrets from her was hard before…"
Molly chuckled in understanding. ""She's a sweet girl, but I never met anyone with such a thirst to know everything about absolutely everything!" she laughed. "You do realize that from now on you'll be her favorite subject, don't you?"
"I've already found that out," he said ruefully. "It's funny though; I've always hated talking about myself, even to my friends, but now…it's not easy, sometimes, but I don't get angry when she asks me questions now. Why is that, do you suppose?"
"Don't you know, dear?" she asked, smiling softly at his continuing look of confusion. "She's not just your friend, now, dear; she's part of you, and you're part of her. There may only be the two of you for now, but you're still a family for all of that."
"A family…" Harry breathed, his eyes glowing with remembered longing. "I hadn't really thought about it that way, but you're right; Hermione is my family, isn't she?"
"Well, the start of one," Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "Hopefully the two of you aren't planning on rushing into expanding on that just yet."
Harry blanched as her meaning sunk in. "No, definitely not!" he agreed hastily. "Someday, maybe, a long time from now, but not yet, we're definitely in agreement on that."
"I'm very glad to hear that, dear; I may be anxious to be a grandmother and have my children's babies to fuss over and spoil, but that doesn't mean I want my own children to grow up any faster than they have to, and you two are mine now as well. So long as you are happy, everything else will come in its own good time."
~~~~~~
After finishing his introduction to the care and feeding of enchanted rag bins, Harry went looking for his friends, hoping for a bit of distraction from some of the thoughts his conversation with Molly had aroused. He was just about to head upstairs when he heard the sound of laughter coming from the direction of the garden. Glancing out the window, he spotted the two youngest Weasleys engaged in the never-ending battle to keep the garden gnome population at manageable levels, with Luna providing her own unique spin to the process. A doubled-up Ravenclaw scarf had been converted into a makeshift sling, and like David conquering Goliath she was launching the potato-headed pests far out into the fields.
However, the reason for the laughter became evident with her next effort, for while the sling was an inventive method of disposing of the gnomes, it was an inconsistent one. Instead of arcing out over the garden wall, the next victim went straight up, paused for a moment at the top of its flight, and then dropped straight down again, narrowly missing a luridly cursing Ron while his sister giggled at his discomfiture. Harry was chuckling himself when the sound of another feminine voice laughing drew his attention to the bench where his girlfriend sat, watching her friends' antics with the ubiquitous book in her hands.
Hermione. His family. The concept was strange, and more than a little bit scary, he admitted to himself. What did he know about being part of a family, really? He'd heard it said that children turned into their parents as they got older, but did that mean he was going to turn into Vernon? The very idea made him shudder; he hoped not, the last thing he wanted to do was perpetuate the narrow-minded bigotry that so typified his uncle, but what choice did he have? What other role models had there been as he grew up for him to pattern himself on? Oh, rationally, he knew better than to want to be like the loathsome senior Dursley, what would his subconscious want of him?
Then again, he mused, perhaps he would have to be married to another Petunia to become another Vernon, and he couldn't imagine anyone more different from his aunt than Hermione. Caring, sensitive, warm, compassionate, she was all of that and so much more. Despite what Mrs. Weasley had said about Hermione being a lucky girl, Harry knew he was the lucky one, that for once the fates that seemed determined to kick him in the teeth at every opportunity had instead given him their blessing. He couldn't remember just when the voice of his conscience had become Hermione's voice, but he suspected it was at the same time that he'd unknowingly fallen in love with her. She was his better half, and he would do everything in his power to make her happy, to keep her safe-and the gods have mercy on anyone who dared harm her, because he surely wouldn't...
His thoughts turned to their first night together in their room; he'd spent half of it just lying awake and watching as she slept, her tousled hair a dark cloud against the crisp white linen of the pillowcase, the slow rise and fall of her breasts a blessed metronome that soothed and relaxed him until he finally fell asleep as well. He hadn't said anything, but he dreaded their return to Hogwarts and the loss of the simple intimacy of sharing a bed with her. Not once since they'd been joined together by the Bonding had he suffered one of his scar-induced nightmares, and he knew he had her to thank for that as well. He'd felt a presence pushing at his mind a time or two, but every time it happened, the warmth of the love that flowed between them interposed itself between his mind and the darkness.
A tapping at the window snapped him out of his musings, and he focused his attention on Ginny's smiling face. "All through with your chores? Good!" she called, raising her voice a little to be heard through the glass as he nodded. "We're caught up, too. Ron suggested some Quidditch practice, how about it?"
Harry considered the suggestion, and was mildly surprised to find the idea actually appealing to him. Then his face fell as he remembered his decision at the beginning of the summer. "I don't have my broom," he called back. "It's still at Grimmauld Place."
Ginny just shrugged. "So use one of ours, we have plenty of spares. Besides, it'll be interesting to see if you're still such a hot Quidditch star without a top-notch broom under you!" she added, grinning at him in challenge.
"You're on, Weasley!" Harry laughed. "I was on one of the school's Cleansweeps when I put the Ferret in his place, I think I can handle you!"
"Big words, Potter!" she called back with a smile as she headed towards the broom shed. "Be careful you don't end up choking on them!"
In the end it turned out they were both right. Harry's skills as a Seeker were only slightly impaired by the slower broom; in a position where reflexes and reaction time were the keys to success, his inborn abilities at spotting and catching the Snitch were not dependent on what broom he rode, and he consistently beat Ginny to the fluttering golden prize. On the other hand, when he attempted to join her as a Chaser in order to help Ron hone his skills as a Keeper, it became rapidly apparent that the instincts that made him a great Seeker did not translate to the handling of a Quaffle. If anything, they got in the way, and the ease with which Ron blocked his few feeble attempts at scoring a goal, those that even came close to passing through a hoop, was humiliating.
The same could not be said when Ron's girlfriend mounted a broom. Whether it was natural athletic skill or a fringe benefit of the Sight was beside the point; from the moment the Quaffle touched her hands she could do no wrong. Goal after goal sailed past Ron's outstretched hands, and when he finally seemed to be getting a handle on predicting her moves, she came up with a way of distracting the Keeper at the crucial moment that was uniquely…Luna. The Wronski Feint might be one of the ultimate moves a professional Quidditch player could perform, but for sheer audacity it paled into insignificance before what became known among those who witnessed it as the Lovegood Flash.
"Ha! Better luck next time!" Ron crowed as he tossed the successfully blocked Quaffle back to his girlfriend. "You're not bad, Lovegood, but when it comes to not letting the Quaffle in, Weasley is the King!"
Luna cocked her head to one side and contemplated her gloating boyfriend. "You shouldn't allow yourself to become overconfident, Ronald," she chided as she balanced the large, leather ball in one hand. "You never know when your opponent will come up with something completely unexpected."
"Do your worst," Ron taunted back at her. "I've got you pegged now, Love, and nothing you could do will get another goal past the King!"
Harry saw the little smile playing around Luna's lips before she swung away from the goals to position herself for another attempt. "I don't think you should have said that, mate," he cautioned, watching the blond girl as she reached the far end of the pitch and began her run.
"Why, what's she going to-bloody hell!" Ron shouted. As she approached the goals, Luna tossed the Quaffle into the air, and the moment it left her hands yanked open her robes, baring her breasts. It wasn't anything Ron hadn't seen before; he was actually very familiar with those two perfect little globes and their puffy nipples. But he certainly didn't expect to see them exposed on the Quidditch pitch, and the moment's distraction was all it took for Luna to recapture the Quaffle and send it sailing past Ron's head and through the hoop.
Ginny's peals of laughter snapped the boys out of their daze as Luna nodded in acknowledgement of the accolades of her roommates. Hermione, from her position on the ground where she'd been watching the practice, caroled out in impromptu rhyme; "She will not balk, it's not a sin, because she got the Quaffle in, Luna is the Queen!"
"That was brilliant, Luna!" Ginny cried as she flew up alongside the Ravenclaw girl who was only now readjusting her robes. "I wish I'd had a camera to capture the look on Ron's face, it was priceless!"
"Thank you, Ginny, it was rather good, wasn't it?" Luna replied, smiling in the direction of her still flustered boyfriend. "I did try to warn him that he should try and expect the unexpected."
Harry watched the girls as they congratulated Luna on her unconventional victory and shook his head at his friend. "Your girlfriend really is a handful, isn't she?" he commented, nodding in Luna's direction. A smirk quirked the corners of his mouth as he added (in a voice low enough not to reach his own girlfriend's ears), "in more ways than one, too."
"Yeah, you've got that-hey! You just forget what you saw!" Ron grumbled.
"Easy mate," Harry chuckled. "I can admire the landscaping without wanting to pick the flowers."
Ron turned the phrase over in his mind a few times before he figured out what Harry meant, but once he did, he joined in his friend's laughter. "I guess I am pretty lucky, at that," he agreed with a slightly bemused tone as he realized just how true those words were.
Something about the way Ron said the words caught Harry's attention. "You get the nerve up to have that talk yet?" he asked softly.
"Don't rush me, I'm working up to it," Ron mumbled, earning a frown from his friend.
"It's your choice, Ron, but time's getting short. We head back to Hogwarts on Sunday, and once we're back there it's going to get a lot harder to find the kind of privacy you need for that sort of talk, if you get my drift," Harry pointed out, unnecessarily in Ron's opinion. Suddenly he made up his mind.
Tomorrow. I'll talk to her tomorrow."
The approaching sunset brought an end to the practice, and the teens headed back to the Burrow to clean up before supper. Since she hadn't participated in the strenuous activity on the Quidditch pitch Hermione was still relatively fresh, and after a quick wash-up volunteered her services in the preparation of their meal. When Harry and the other ventured back downstairs they found her and Mrs. Weasley chatting amiably in the kitchen, with Hermione describing some of her mother's favorite dishes as she set the table in the Muggle fashion, laying out the linens, plates and service by hand.
Seeing the easy way Molly and Hermione were interacting relaxed the last bit of lingering tension that remained in Harry's heart over the strained relationship between two of the most important women in his life. Of course both had told him they'd resolved their differences, but hearing the words and seeing the results were two very different things. For Molly, the kitchen would always be her inner sanctum, the room in the Burrow where she was happiest and at her most unguarded. If she were still harboring any doubts about Hermione, they would show up here. For her part, if Hermione felt any tension remaining between her and Mrs. Weasley, she wouldn't be able to hide her discomfort in her presence. For her to be chatting so animatedly about her childhood with Molly could only mean that they truly had made peace with one another.
The pop of someone Apparating sounded from the parlor, and a moment later Mr. Weasley came striding into the kitchen, a cheerful smile on his face. "Good evening, guests, good evening, Weasleys!" he said genially as he came up beside his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Is that roast mutton in the oven?" he asked, sniffing appreciatively at the air. "Whatever it is, it smells fabulous! How long until we eat?"
"Plenty of time for you to clean up before supper," his wife declared. "And the rest of you, if you're not helping, shoo! Hermione and I will call you when it's time to sit down; isn't that right, dear?"
"C'mon, Harry, if we're having Mum's roast mutton we have time for me to give you another drubbing at chess, just what I need to work up an appetite!" Ron said, grabbing his friend by the arm and dragging him to the gaming table in the parlor and the aforementioned drubbing.
After dinner Ginny kept her promise to Harry and diverted Hermione's attention away from Harry as he lingered in the kitchen by the simple expedient of asking her to check over Ginny's summer homework assignments. "I'm pretty sure I covered everything I needed on Charms and Transfiguration," she explained as she urged Hermione towards the stairs and their room, "but I don't want to give Snapey a chance to dock points the first day back in class if I can avoid it."
"You know better than that, Ginny," her mother scolded, having heard her from the kitchen. "He may be unpleasant, but Severus Snape is still your professor, and you should show him due respect, for his position if not his personality."
"But Mum, you know how horrid he is to anyone who's not a Slytherin, and especially to Harry!" Ginny objected. "How are we supposed to respect a teacher who's a worse bully than anybody in his house, Malfoy included?"
"She's right, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione interjected. "Professor Snape is at his worst towards Harry, but he's not the only student he picks on regularly. Neville Longbottom is smart enough to be doing much better in that class than he is, but he's so nervous around the professor he can't do well. It's really terribly unfair."
Mrs. Weasley looked torn between the desire to commiserate with her daughters and the need to maintain proper decorum. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I do understand your concerns, but if anything, it just means you shouldn't lower yourself to his level. After all-"
"Now, dear, they are young adults," her husband interrupted. "So long as they don't do it in class, I don't see the harm in them using a nickname for their professor, just among themselves. And besides, I seem to remember Professor Snape's predecessor being driven to distraction by the nickname someone coined for her…" He grinned at his blushing wife, who hastily changed the subject and sent the girls off to check Ginny's homework, which coincidentally kept Hermione busy so Harry could have his talk.
He waited until Molly and Arthur were comfortably seated in the parlor, and then pulled the sliding door closed and cast a silencing charm on it. He knew that Ginny could only guarantee him a half an hour of distraction, perhaps a bit more, so he got straight to the point. "You know that I want to propose to Hermione in the Muggle fashion, and give her a ring as a symbol of that and of the Bonding, for everyone to see, right?" When they nodded encouragingly, he continued, "The thing is, I want it to be as special for us as the Bonding was…magically, I mean. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What did you have in mind, Harry?" Arthur asked, puzzled. "Obviously the Bonding itself is a one-time only spell in any witch or wizard's life. You could, well, 'go through the motions' again, as it were, but while that might be satisfying emotionally, it wouldn't represent that much magically, not like the first time did."
"Well, I got to wondering; the way wizards seem to be about…sex, not everyone who gets engaged is going to be…. I mean, a lot of purebloods must…" Suddenly feeling oddly embarrassed by the conversation and who he was having it with, Harry made faint joining motions with is hands, earning a small laugh from the Weasleys.
"If you mean most purebloods end up having sex before they're in a position to Bond, you're probably right," Arthur agreed. "That's a big reason that particular ritual has dropped out of common usage, not enough people using it. What was that joke Ted Tonks told me? 'The parade of the Volcano Virgins had to be cancelled because one was sick and the other refused to march alone'? I'm guessing we purebloods are a lot like that."
"That's kind of what I figured," Harry nodded. "So what do you instead? What would, say, Bill do, if he were to propose to Fleur, and wanted to link himself and the family wards to her the way Hermione did for me?"
Dawning comprehension crossed the Weasleys' faces. Arthur turned to Molly, who smiled and nodded, and then turned back to Harry's expectant look. "All right, Harry," he said, "this is what the two of you will have to do…"
~~~~~~
Hermione glanced at the clock by the door and once again a feeling of aggravation washed over her. When she and Harry had been joined to the Weasley family, her by adoption and him through the Bonding, one of the first visible signs of their connection had been the appearance of two new hands on the family clock; one with the name "Hermione Jane Granger", and the other, of course, with the name "Harry James Potter". They'd both become a bit teary-eyed the first time they noticed this concrete evidence of their change in status, especially at the sight of both hands pointing firmly into the quadrant labeled 'HOME' while they stood in the living room of the Burrow.
At the moment, though, she wished the charms on the clock were a bit more specific, for while both hands were still proclaiming the presence of the two newest members of the Weasley clan within the boundaries of the Burrow, those boundaries and the wards that defined them covered a great deal of ground, and Hermione had not been able to locate Harry for several hours…and she was beginning to be irritated by the situation.
It wasn't that she was feeling worried about his safety, or insecure or possessive…well, yes, she did feel possessive about Harry, but no moreso than was appropriate for a young woman to feel about her lover, at least as far as she could tell. No, any nervousness on her part came from the fact that they only had a short time left until their return to school, and she wanted to spend as much of that time as possible with him before then. She knew Harry felt it, too; they had made love that morning with a slightly frantic intensity that both exhilarated and frightened her.
They'd stayed in bed just cuddling for most of the morning, with Hermione talking about her hopes and dreams for the future while Harry listened and offered the occasional comment. She wasn't terribly surprised that he didn't have more to say; she knew that talking about his feelings was always going to be difficult for him at the best of times, and it was probably a bit unreasonable of her to expect him to be able to do so with a naked girl cuddled in his arms distracting his thoughts elsewhere. Still it had been a very pleasant morning, and she'd been looking forward to an equally pleasant afternoon.
Unfortunately the imp Murphy seemed to have other plans for them; immediately after lunch Ginny had kidnapped Hermione for some 'girl talk', which in Hermione's opinion turned out to be composed of far too many personal questions for her taste, but which Ginny insisted she had a 'sister's right' to have answered. Somehow Hermione had ended up telling her things about her activities with Harry that had her blushing bright red while at the same time feeling both smug and wicked. Listening to Ginny's squealing envy was worse than a dose of Veritaserum, and really, it wasn't gloating to talk about how weak in the knees Harry's attentiveness left her, was it?
By the time she was able to tear herself away from Ginny's questions it was late afternoon, but by then Harry had disappeared somewhere, and try as she might, Hermione had been unable to track him down. If not for the clock's assurance that he was still safely within the confines of the wards she'd have been worried, but as it was, all she was feeling was irritated. She knew that Ron and Luna had wandered off into the woods just after lunch and hadn't been seen since, so presumably they were doing just what Hermione had hoped to, spending as much of their remaining free time before returning to school just being together.
She glanced outside, noting the changing light that indicated dusk was approaching. Before long the sun would set, another day would be over, and still Harry was somewhere other than where he should be, which was holding her in his arms. With an annoyed huff she picked up one of the books she'd kept out for a little light reading and settled down on the couch to await the return of her wandering boyfriend.
Molly was passing through the living room and heard Hermione's sigh. "What's the matter, dear?"
"It's nothing, Mrs. Weasley," she replied, and squirmed a bit under the unconvinced look on Molly's face. "Really, it's nothing serious; it's just that…we'll be returning to Hogwarts in a couple of days, and I wanted to spend as much time together with Harry as we can before then…" she trailed off with a blush as she realized how possessive that made her sound, but Molly just chuckled.
"It's all right, I do understand; Arthur and I were the same way at first; we couldn't stand the idea of being apart for any length of time. I know my mother threatened to throw a bucket of ice water on us more than once." She noticed Hermione's gaze darting to the clock again and smiled. "I'm guessing that Harry is nowhere to be found, and that you're a bit annoyed by his absence?"
"Am I that obvious?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.
"Only to someone who knows you; try not to b too upset with him, dear, I'm sure that whatever is keeping him busy, there's a good reason for it."
As if responding on cue, Hedwig chose that moment to swoop into the room, hooting softly as she landed on the arm of the couch and extended her leg with its attached note towards Hermione. Her heart lifting, she stroked the snowy white owl's feathers as she removed the rolled up note. The slightly messy script was instantly recognizable, not that she needed anything beyond the messenger to identify the source:
Dear Hermione;
If you're not too upset with me for leaving you alone all afternoon, please come join me at the place where we began.
love, Harry
Smiling, Hermione ran upstairs and grabbed her cloak along with a treat for Hedwig, thanking her again before heading out the door of the Burrow at a quick walk. Even at that pace it took about ten minutes before she caught the first glimpse of sunlight reflecting off water, and several minutes past that before the trail ended at the side of the lake, There, waiting as promised, was Harry, a look of anxiousness on his face that turned into a brilliant smile when he saw her appear. "Thanks for coming," he said quietly, holding a hand out to her. "I was afraid you might be angry with me for disappearing all afternoon."
"I was, a little," she admitted, taking his hand, "but not enough to matter. Now, why did you want to meet out here? It's a little nippy for a swim."
"Actually, this is just the starting point," he clarified, leading her towards a familiar trail. "I have a different destination in mind…"
Hermione's confusion lasted only as long as it took Harry to lead her to the path by the bluff and the two pillars that marked the head of the trail leading to the Weasley Heart Stones. "Harry, why are we going-?"
"It's a surprise; nothing bad, I promise. You do trust me, don't you?"
"Yesss…" She did trust him, with her life, and even more frightening In some ways, with her heart, so she held off asking any more questions. At least she did until they stopped just out of sight of the circle and he withdrew a length of cloth from his pocket and made as if to blindfold her.
Something of her uncertainty must have shown on her face and he paused. "Do you promise to close your eyes and not peek until I tell you to open them?" She nodded and he stuffed away the cloth before taking her hand to lead her forward. "All right then, go ahead and close them, and remember, no peeking!"
She had to admit that he was a careful guide, taking it slowly and directing her steps so that she avoided any obstacles that might be in her path. She could even feel when they entered the clearing; the sensation of openness about her touching her skin. She felt the slight tingle of the wards as they passed into the circle, and then they came to a stop. "You can open your eyes now," he said quietly.
Hermione did as she was told and gasped in delight; she now knew just where Harry had disappeared to for the afternoon, and any lingering irritation she might have felt was banished by the magical sight before her. The stones that formed the Circle were all alight with the cool blue flames of the wards, and long garlands of night blooming jasmine festooned the circle, softening the hard silhouettes of the stones even further. At first she thought the blossoms were glowing with a pale light all their own, but a flickering movement drew her attention to the swirling fireflies that had been persuaded to add their own cool glow to the flowers. Beyond the stones, fairly lights danced through the branches of the outer ring of trees, turning the leaves into a canopy of shifting, luminescent green.
Over the years since learning she was a witch and that the wizarding world secretly coexisted with the Muggle world, she'd seen many sights that could be called 'magical', from the simple arrival of her first Hogwarts letter in the beak of a great, brown barn owl, to the first glimpse of the towers of Hogwarts beckoning on the far side of the lake, but none had moved her like this. Perhaps it was because it had been created just for her benefit, perhaps it was because just the two of them were sharing it, but she knew that this was an image that she would treasure the rest of her life. "It's so beautiful," she whispered.
She felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders, and at their gentle urging turned to face him. "Not half as beautiful as you," he said firmly with uncharacteristic eloquence, and she felt her throat constricting as he leaned down and captured her lips in a soft kiss that was both passionate and chaste. Their mouths were open, their breath intermingling as they molded themselves to one another, but this was not a kiss that called for the thrust and parry of tongues, rather it was one of deep emotions being felt and expressed.
When they finally separated, Hermione was feeling breathless and more than a little light-headed. "H-Harry, this is all wonderful, but…"
"But you're wondering why we're here?" he asked, smiling as she nodded. Harry guided her over to the low stone that served as both bench and altar, and urged her with a gentle pull on her hands to sit next to him. Keeping her hands clasped in his he kept his gaze averted from hers as he spoke. "Hermione, I'm…I'm not very good with words, not really, especially when they're about how I feel. These last few weeks with you have made it a bit easier to talk, but I know I bollix it up more often than not…worse than Ron, really; he talks without thinking sometimes, but that's better than not talking at all. At least now I know that not saying anything is worse than trying and maybe saying the wrong thing, so I hope you can hear what I mean, even if I can't say it right."
"Harry, that's not true, you're not that bad at expressing yourself…" Hermione tried to reassure him, but he raised his hand and briefly covered her mouth before continuing.
"Please, love, let me finish; I've been screwing my nerve up for this for a week, and if I stop now, I don't know when I'll find the guts to start again. Just listen, okay? You can tell me what an idiot I'm being afterwards." She huffed slightly at his self-criticism, but when she restrained herself from further comments, he continued.
Harry opened his mouth a couple of times, clearly struggling to find a way to begin, and then he sighed. "This is what I was afraid of; I had all these speeches rehearsed in my head, but now that you're here in front of me, they're like so much smoke slipping through my fingers…
"The thing is, you know what a mess I was the beginning of the summer…what a mess I've been for a long time, really. I don't think I really understood myself how much losing…Sirius…hurt me. It didn't help that I was sure it was all my fault, that I killed him just by knowing him, just like I killed my parents, and Cedric-"
"Harry, you know that's not true!" Hermione scolded, unable to keep silent despite her promise. "You know who's really to blame, that none of what happened is your fault…"
""You're wrong, Hermione; some of it is my fault," Harry responded, quieting her by putting a finger to her lips. "I'm not taking all the blame on myself any more, you've helped me past that, but letting go of what isn't my fault means I have to accept what mistakes I did make…anyway, that's not really what I wanted to talk about.
"In a couple of days, we're going to be back at Hogwarts, and it's not going to take long for people to notice that we're…well, a lot more than just friends now. I'll admit that it worries me, a lot, to think of what some people might say or do because you're my girlfriend. All that nonsense we went through in fourth year when Rita Skeeter was kiting those rumors won't be a patch on what happens this time. Back then it was just nasty gossip, but this time it'll be worse, because this time there'll be something to it, something that I can't deny, and wouldn't even if I could."
"And what's that, Harry?" she asked softly, her eyes shining with emotion.
"That I love you…that I'm in love with you," he answered her with a smile. "I am completely, totally, madly in love with one of my two best friends, and it isn't Ron Weasley." She giggled a little at his intentional silliness, and he chuckled as well before becoming serious again.
"Anyway, I've been doing a lot of thinking about it, and I realized that since it's not going to be possible to deny it, I need to make everyone realize from the first just how much you mean to me." His eyes were locked onto hers now, the intensity of his gaze making her a bit nervous as he continued. "In case I haven't made it clear by now, you mean everything to me, Hermione. I know that's kind of lame sounding, but it's the truth. I just don't know the words to say what I feel when I think of you, maybe because I think of you all the time…I don't know how I managed to be so lucky, but I'm going to do everything I can to make you and everyone else understand that at least I know how lucky I am, and how much you mean to me."
"What are you trying to say…Harry!" Hermione gasped as he slipped from his seat on the stone and knelt before her, holding her hands in his grasp.
"What I'm trying to say, Miss Granger, is that, young as we are, I know who I want to spend my life with, and she's right here in front of me. I know I don't deserve you, but if the smartest witch of our generation is mad enough to be in love with me, I'm at least smart enough not to let her go. Hermione, will you marry me?"
Unable to speak, Hermione nodded, and gasped again as he withdrew a small, velvet-coved box from his pocket. Opening it, he removed the most incredible ring she'd ever seen and with hands that trembled slightly, slipped it onto her ring finger. The moment he let her hand go she squealed in happiness and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly she knocked him off balance and tumbled both of them to the ground where she proceeded to cover his face with kisses until they both dissolved into laughter.
When she had regained her composure enough to think coherently, she took a closer look at the ring and almost lost it all over again. "Ohmigod, Harry, it's beautiful! It must have cost-well, I don't want to even think how much it must have cost you! You really should've picked something more sensible," she finished half-heartedly, but he could tell her heart wasn't really in it.
He grinned and pulled her close for a fierce kiss, inordinately pleased that at least he'd managed to get this right. "It's amazing what they're putting in Crackerjack boxes these days, isn't it?" he teased, remembering a conversation they'd had once about favorite movies and her guilty admission that one of her all-time favorites was 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'.
"Oh, you!" she scolded, giving his arm a little swat before kissing him again, more deeply this time. When they came up for air again she sighed contentedly, enjoying their surroundings and gazing up at the stars that were just becoming visible overhead. A thought occurred to her and she frowned slightly biting her lip. "Harry, does…did you tell Mrs. Weasley what you were planning on doing?" she asked, half afraid of the answer.
"Who do you think recommended the jeweler I went to?" he told her by way of answering, enjoying the shocked look of surprise on her face. He smiled as she sniffed happily. "She's fine with this, Hermione, her and Mr. Weasley as well."
"You're sure?" she asked, hoping that her misstep earlier in the summer really was behind them.
"Very sure," he replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I know that for a fact because…I spoke to both her and Mr. Weasley to ask their permission, not for the proposal, but for something else."
She saw the nervous look in his eyes and felt a quiver of concern. "What…what did you ask them about?"
Harry's expression became serious as he took her hands again and said, "I asked for their blessing, because I wanted to ask you if you would do me the honor of renewing our Bonding, to seal our betrothal in the magical as well as the physical worlds." He kissed her hands and brushed away the tears that started in her eyes. "Will you make love with me, here, now, Mione?"
She searched his eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitation, any trace of regrets. Finding none, she answered him with another kiss, this one the most passionate yet, her tongue demanding and receiving access to his mouth as they began the dance once again.
After a few minutes of passionate kissing, Harry drew her to her feet, smiling at the puzzled look on her face. "Well, we have to do things a bit differently," he pointed out. "After all, neither of us meet the requirements of the first Bonding any more, do we?" He chuckled at her blush, and withdrawing his wand from its sheath, pointed it at the center of the open space.
"Taghairm Pòsadh Leabaidh!"
As the Gaelic words echoed across the Circle a stream of blue light, the same color as the witchfire that still burned on the stones surrounding them, shot into the thick groundcover that blanketed the floor of the circle. Trails of blue fire radiated outward from the impact point, creating a web that connected all the stones to the center of the ring. As they watched the ground shifted, raising itself until a large, roughly rectangular stone platform was revealed, its hard surface blanketed and softened by the same growth the protected the rest of the circle's floor. Tiny wildflowers burst into bloom like miniature fireworks, filling the air with the scent of clover.
Clearing his throat, Harry spoke the ritual phrase Mr. Weasley had taught him along with the spells. "Wilt thou consummate thy Joining with me, my lady?"
Hermione nodded, but Harry shook his head. "You have to answer aloud, love." He repeated the question, and this time she answered him: "Yes."
As the word passed her lips the fires flickering on the outer stones dimmed, not going out completely, but transferring the majority of their energy to the center of the ring where their 'bed' awaited them. Harry asked for and received Hermione's wand, placing it with his own in the same spot they had rested the last time they were in the circle, though this time Harry's wand crossed over, rather than under, Hermione's.
With that accomplished, he led her to stand beside the platform, and then silently, tenderly, undressed her, his eyes never leaving hers as he divested her of her tank top, shorts and knickers. He then cooperated as she did the same for him, their gaze breaking only for an instant as she pulled his tee shirt over his head. His jeans were tossed aside, along with his boxers, his extremely visible arousal making its presence known the moment it was freed from its constraints.
Stepping close to her, he buried his hands in her wild hair and tilted her face up to his, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and finally her mouth, the sensations driving him to pull her body to his as she moaned against his lips in pleasure. Her own hands began to wander, stroking and caressing the hard muscles of his back, wandering down to squeeze the cheeks of his tight bottom. She laughed as he swept her up in his arms and deposited her on their bed, staring down at her, his eyes burning with hunger as she stretched languorously.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his tone reverent as though he was speaking of the Holy of Holies, and so far as Harry was concerned, he was. She was for him a goddess incarnate, and he knew he would worship her all of his days, not the dry, sterile worship of the few church services the Dursleys had dragged him to over the years, but ecstatically in the truest sense of the word, exalted and enraptured by the sight of the naked beauty being offered up to him.
Laying beside her, he began to demonstrate his devotion to her, exploring the temple of her body in ways that made her cry out in passion, the goddess accepting the ministrations of her high priest. Together they sanctified the altar that was created by the joining of flesh with flesh, discovering in each other's arms the rituals that were as ancient as Man and Woman, and as new as the declaration of their love for one another.
Her breasts were the pomegranates sacred to Persephone, her nipples the very fountains of Ambrosia, the sweet nectar that nourishes the gods. His hands were the skilled hands of Pygmalion, and she became Galatea under their caresses, brought to life by his worshipful touch. The explored each other's bodies anew, as the magic of the Circle and the power of the Joining transformed mystery into Mystery. Harry's manhood became the Staff of Life, the catalyst of renewal. Between Hermione's legs he found, entered and surrendered himself to the ultimate Mystery; the Cauldron of Cerridwen, the Well of Rebirth, where the slain Hero was resurrected. Harry lost himself within her, died, and was reborn.
Finally, their energies expended within one another, the young lovers drifted quietly into the restful and restorative embrace of sleep, the energy raised by their Joining pulsing within the Circle and resonating throughout the wards in tune with the slow beating of their hearts. For the moment the rest of the world vanished, and nothing existed save the couple intertwined in each other's arms.
~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Part Two: Not too flowery there at the end, I hope. I was trying my hardest to convey the spiritual aspect of their Joining, as well as the intense physical and emotional aspects. Not sure how well I succeeded, and will really appreciate any critiques of that scene my readers care to offer. Depending on reactions, I may rework that section at a later date.
Still a couple of chapters to go to get them on the Express to Hogwarts. I am now considering, rather than making this one continuous fic thru the school year, splitting part one from part two, and picking up the narration as a sequel to 'Intervention'.
And no, I haven't forgotten about Ron and Luna. I've decided to give that scene and its fallout, good and bad, its own chapter, which will follow this one. Thanks in advance for all reviews, especially those that provide me with impressions and insight into character motivation and development. More to come, I promise!
~~~~~~
POSTSCRIPT - Following the original posting of this chapter a few minor and not-so-minor errors were pointed out to me. Those have been corrected, and a few changes have been added to the imagery of the joining ritual. My thanks to the reviewers who helped me iron out some of the bugs that I missed.